“Hey, Bastian, Leo's on the line and he's...” Charlotte's called out, entering the room and breaking the spell. She had her phone to her ear but her hand over the mouth piece. “Oh, hey, Ava.”
She glanced around at the tableau in front of her, with Bastian kneeling before me in the kitchen, our hands on the glass together, and what I knew must be a frightful flush on my cheeks. I could only imagine what she thought. “Am I interrupting?”
Bastian quickly rose to his feet and set the empty glass on the table. “Of course not.”
Charlotte glanced back and forth between the two of us, one eyebrow arching higher than the other. I looked down at my plate, wishing I knew how to control my blushing. Charlotte took an inhale to say something and then followed my gaze to my plate and instead burst out with, “You made Rough-Day Sandwiches? Did you make me one?”
“No. You said you were on a diet,” he said with a shrug. That explained why she hadn't had any of the french toast this morning. She looked up at Bastian but before she could say anything he held up his hand. “See? I listen. No gluten, no Rough-Day Sandwich.”
Charlotte stared at my sandwich like a starving person. I could hear her mouth watering from my seat at the table and felt the urge to scoot the sandwich closer to me before she could steal it and run off.
“Sometimes, Bastian,” she said, turning to face him and crossing her arms. “Sometimes, you suck.”
Bastian grinned at her. “You said Leo's on the phone?”
“Yeah. Main line, so it's business,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. I wondered if they were secretly a couple since they were obviously close. The idea that Bastian might be with someone stung in places I wasn't expecting.
“Excuse me then, Ava,” Bastian said, catching my eye. Looking into Bastian's eyes was like looking into deep water. There was so much there that I couldn't look away. I hoped that he and Charlotte weren't an item. That would ruin all the wonderful fantasies my brain was now starting to concoct around him. He carefully slipped past Charlotte and back into the main house, my eyes following him the entire way.
Charlotte watched him leave and then promptly looked at me.
“He likes you,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“What?” I tried to laugh, but there was a thrill in the pit of my stomach. I wanted him to like me. “What makes you say that?”
“He made you a Rough-Day Sandwich,” she stated, as if that made everything terribly obvious.
“I don't know if you noticed, Charlotte, but I kind of did have a rough day,” I replied with a shrug.
Charlotte laughed, grinning at me and shaking her head. “He doesn't just make them for anyone. You have to be special to merit a Rough-Day Sandwich.”
“Maybe he just felt bad for me,” I suggested. She stared at my plate like a ravenous animal. I smiled. “Would you like some? This is my second and I won't be able to eat it all anyway.”
“He made you TWO?” she exclaimed. She shook her head incredulous, but it quickly shifted into an eager nod. “Yes, yes, I want some.”
She hurried over to the kitchen and brought me a knife to cut the sandwich in half. I grinned as I cut into it, her excitement at the food contagious. She reminded me of one of my best friends from high school, so bubbly and easy to get along with that it was impossible not be her friend. I couldn't help but like her, even if she was with Bastian.
Charlotte could barely wait for the knife to finish cutting before grabbing her piece. She took a huge bite and sank into a kitchen chair with ecstasy written all over her face. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “He must really like you. He made his special sauce.”
I snickered slightly at her use of “special sauce,” but she just rolled her eyes and took another bite.
“Why are they called Rough-Day Sandwiches?” I asked, taking another bite.
Charlotte swallowed, pausing long enough between bites to explain. “When we were younger, Bastian would make them for me whenever I had a rough day. They make a rough day better—thus Rough-Day Sandwiches.”
“When you were younger?” I asked, feeling a cold pang in my stomach. If she had known him since childhood, there was no way I could compete. “Did you know each other as kids?”
She nodded. “We basically grew up together. We had the same foster family. We may have different last names, but he's family. He's as much my brother as anyone can be.”
“Oh.” My heart stopped falling. He was her foster brother. Which also explained the use of past tense when referring to his parents. They must have died when he was much younger. “So is Kindling Romance a family business then?”
Charlotte laughed as if I had said something wonderfully clever and funny. “Oh, no. It's all Bastian. He's the one who convinced his two friends they actually had a legit idea. When he gets a notion in his head, the rest of us just come along for the ride.”
I nodded. He seemed like the kind of person who would take charge and lead a business. But really, I was just glad to know that Charlotte considered him her brother. They weren't a couple. Butterflies happily danced around in my stomach at the thought of those gray eyes looking at me again, and knowing that they were actually looking at me.
“That was so good.” Charlotte smacked her lips and licked the crumbs off her fingers. “Totally worth breaking the diet.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Don't tell him you shared with me.”
“Too late,” Bastian whispered loudly from behind her.
“Damn it!” Charlotte jumped and then glared at him. “You know I can't pass up a Rough-Day Sandwich. That's like asking the ocean not to be wet.”
Bastian just shook his head slowly at her. It was easy to see their brother-sister relationship now that I knew what it was.
“What did Leo want?” Charlotte asked, brushing crumbs off her blouse.
Bastian sighed, the shadows creeping into his eyes and losing the warmth of his smile. “The new app is a mess. I'm going to need you to cancel my morning appointments and schedule a conference call.”
“Will do, Boss,” Charlotte chirped, pulling out her phone.
“I'm sorry, but I have to go deal with this,” Bastian said, turning toward me. I could see real regret in his face.
“No worries. I have plenty I need to do myself.” I knew my face mirrored his regret, but I smiled and waved my hand at the papers on the table. “Thank you for dinner, though. I really appreciate it. It was wonderful.”